Christmas Break

As our celebration of Christmas continues, so too does my vacation at home on Staten Island. After hosting Christmas festivities at our house, my parents and I have been on the road visiting family, sightseeing and shopping.

I've also enjoyed the opportunity to catch up with friends: on Christmas Eve I had the pleasure of lunching with Joseph and Aly Palmer, who were in visiting from Atlanta; and Scott Cullen dropped by New Dorp on his journey from Connecticut to Philadelphia.

Since I never got to see much more than the emergency room of Princeton University during my fall visit, my parents and I made the drive down the Turnpike and enjoyed a brief walking tour of the campus and town. It was clear but cold, so we moved quickly - still, we found the campus to be quite lovely.

While we were on the road, we also did some shopping to catch the after-Christmas sales. We also made a trip up-state to visit Mom's side of the family, and gathered with the Rhode Island Koeths when they made their Christmas visit to the Island.

This morning, we were pleasantly surprised to wake to about two inches of snow. Warmer temperatures long ago melted the remnants of the blizzard, so it was nice to wake to a white-blanket of snow, rather than more rain. I had become jealous of everyone in Texas and Oregon!

Homily for the Feast of the Holy Family

Over the past several years, serving at our parish in Portland, Oregon, I had the privilege of preparing a number of young couples for the Baptism of their children. I always met with them in the church, near the Baptismal font, where I could explain the symbols of the Sacrament: the white gown, the candle, the holy oil, and especially the water.

But I always ended by telling the parents that if they remembered nothing of the Scripture I read them, or what I told them about the history of the Sacrament, and the meaning of the symbols, I wanted them to remember just one thing: the most important obligation of Christian parents is to show and teach their children of God’s tremendous love for them. That’s the responsibility they were accepting by bringing their children for Baptism.

I even offered some suggestions for how they would accomplish that: by praying with and teaching their children to pray – by telling them the stories of Scripture and bringing them to Mass – by modeling for them a life of Christian service and helping them discover their vocation in life.

Now that certainly sounds wonderful. I certainly have no doubt that what I told these parents is true. What’s more, I don’t at all doubt that each and every one of those couples wanted to strive for that admirable goal of Christian parenthood.

But then there is the messy reality. Brining a toddler to Mass, and trying in vain to keep them quiet could try the patience of Job. Children not only learn from our good example, they follow us into bad habits as well. Siblings fight and quarrel. Teenagers rebel and are nearly impossible to understand or communicate with. Grown children drift from the Church and cease to practice the faith as we would want them to.

In parish ministry, in counseling and in Reconciliation, perhaps more than any other single issue, priests hear from parents about their concerns for their children – their fears that they are failing as parents; that they haven’t done enough. In my experience parents do indeed accept the challenge and strive mightily to build solid Christian homes – but they look at the Holy Family, which we celebrate today, and they judge themselves as having fallen terribly short.

They believe the Holy Family exhibits complete peace and harmony among its members. And they ask, “how can we live up to the model of the Holy Family, when Jesus was Divine, and Mary was sinless, and each perfect member so perfectly followed God’s perfect plan of salvation?” They know all too well, you and I are not perfect.

But on this Feast of the Holy Family, our readings challenge this image of the Holy Family and offer us a much more consoling and hopeful path forward.

First, Luke’s Gospel account of Jesus’ finding in the Temple challenges our conception of the Holy Family as distanced from the painful realities of real family life. Luke narrates that the adolescent Jesus is lost to Mary and Joseph and they search for him in a panic. There is confusion and worry and heartache. Even when He is found, Jesus’ explanation for his absence is at best confusing and difficult to understand, and at worst a bit snarky.

If this kind of loss, worry, confusion and grief marked the life of Jesus, Mary and Joseph, perhaps it’s not so hard to understand how they can be a part of our family life, while not indicating that we have somehow failed in our quest for holiness. Perhaps it means we merely have an inadequate understanding of ‘perfection’ and ‘holiness’ and imagine incorrectly that those things preclude difficulty and struggle.

Our first reading compliments this Gospel message by offering us a different way forward. Hannah, who was thought to be barren, has prayed with Eli the priest to be given a son – and now that her prayer has been answered, she returns to Shiloh and consecrates her son to the Lord, leaving Samuel to grow up in the temple precincts.

Hannah’s faith makes clear to us that the most important element in building a holy family, the necessary first step in teaching our children that they are loved by God, is recognizing that they do not belong to us, they are not our possessions, but are in fact “children of God;” they belong to Him.

This kind of fidelity to God, this obedience to God’s will, and “growth in wisdom” is what makes the family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph holy and what can make our families holy as well. It is not that our families or our parenting will be perfect – that there will never be loss, worry, confusion or grief. The real Holy Family disproves that completely.

It is, rather, when parents know that their children belong to God and are in His care, that they can give the love, guidance and freedom their children need as they grow and mature. Even parents who worry that they have failed, that their children are lost to them, can find comfort in today’s Gospel, realizing that Mary and Joseph knew such worry, and knowing too that Jesus’ journey toward self-understanding required His return to their loving home in Nazareth.

This Feast of the Holy Family assures us that even amidst inevitable misunderstanding and worry, if Christian parents dedicate their children to God, as Hannah, and Mary and Joseph did, they can trust that God will direct and protect them. Basking in the glorious light of Christmas we ask not so much to be spared the suffering and fear that even the Holy Family had to endure, but rather that we might have some measure of their faith and trust in God and love for one another.

Homily for the Solemnity of Christmas (Vigil Mass)

Back when I was in college, my roommate and I had a little tradition that I’ve maintained every year since: whenever the first snowflake falls from the sky, I watch a Christmas movie classic: National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.

While it’s not White Christmas or It's A Wonderful Life, it has become a kind of modern-day holiday classic, so most of you probably know the story. Clark Griswold wants nothing more than to host a big old-fashioned family Christmas. But his wife Ellen is a little skeptical. “You set standards that no family can live up to,” she tells her husband.

And sure enough, as the story unfolds, everything that can go wrong does go wrong. Crazy cousin-in-law Eddie shows up un-announced, the Christmas lights won’t light, the turkey is overcooked, and the Christmas tree catches on fire. Ellen sums it all up when she says, “I don't know what to say, except it's Christmas and we're all in misery.”

I think one of the reasons this movie has become so popular is that so many of us recognize at least a little of our own holiday experiences in its storyline. We all have high hopes for the holidays, and put a lot of effort into making everything just right for ourselves and for our families.

But then, something or everything goes wrong. Not all the Christmas cards or shopping gets done in time, the cookies burn in the oven and then the cousins fight at the dinner table. Our families and holidays don’t live up to our high hopes and expectations, and so we feel as if we’re shutout of the joy and peace this season is supposed to bring.

Our Gospel reading this evening makes clear that this couldn’t be further from the truth. Matthew introduces his version of the Nativity by relating the genealogy of Jesus from God’s revelation to Abraham, all the way to Joseph, the guardian of the Lord.

Because we don’t know our Scripture the way we could, we miss one of the central points of this genealogy and hear it as merely a list of obscure and unpronounceable names. But one of the reasons to relate this genealogy is to make the point that even the family tree of the Messiah was a dysfunctional mess!

For just one example, think about King David “who became the father of Solomon.” St. Matthew very nicely says that Solomon’s mother had been the wife of Uriah. In fact, as you may remember, David takes Bathsheba as his mistress while Uriah is still alive – and then David has Uriah killed so that he can marry the women now pregnant with his son. And this, friends, is the great King David whose throne God has promised to re-establish through Jesus Christ!

The rest of the list of ancestors isn’t much better. The family tree is filled with more of the same messiness and sinfulness – and that’s precisely why Matthew includes it in his Nativity story. It’s not into a perfect world, into the world that we hope for or imagine that Jesus is born – it’s into the world as it is, often sinful and broken, that the Lord enters at Christmas.

That’s the same point St. Francis tried to remind us of when he gave us the Christmas crèche. Every year, we set up beautiful hand-carved pieces and imagine that it’s a touching beautiful scene. But in reality, it was a God-awful mess! Jesus was born in a barn, and laid in an animal’s feeding trough, because His parents were far from home: their country was occupied by a brutal army, Joseph’s relatives in Bethlehem wouldn’t have them, no one else had any room, and before long King Herod would be out to kill the child and Joseph would have to take his family to exile in Egypt.


Friends, it’s precisely into this world – into the messiness, sinfulness and imperfections of our lives – that the Lord is born. But please don’t think that God’s Son merely comes to make us feel better about ourselves; to tell us that everything is okay; that we shouldn’t beat ourselves up too much or have unrealistic expectations.

Much more than that, as St. Matthew tells us in tonight’s Gospel, the child is given the name Jesus “because He will save His people from their sins.” That’s what the name Jesus means in Hebrew: “God saves.”

On this Christmas night, we don’t simply relive our memories of a sweet children’s story – we wonder at the miracle of God become flesh – we rejoice that His coming, and His sharing our human weakness, is all for the purpose of saving us!

We can truly rejoice and know God’s peace at Christmas, not because our lives, or our families, or our holidays are so perfect, but because we recognize in the tiny child of Bethlehem the One who saves us from every sin and suffering – and that is indeed reason to join the angels in singing: “Glory to God in the Highest, and on earth, peace and goodwill to men.”

Merry Christmas!

"For unto us is born this day, in the city of David,

a Savior which is Christ the Lord."

Merry Christmas!

Mega Holiday Mash-Up

With my applications finally completed (praise God!) and the semester wrapped up, I am relaxing on Staten Island, preparing for the Christmas holidays with Mom and Dad. With extra time on my hands, I thought it was time to finally update you on the last several weeks.

My last non-homiletic post told you about my curtailed trip east to visit grad schools, a couple of football weekend visitations, and some of the goings on at Old College - specifically, our tradition of Sunday evening meals.

So, I figured that was a good place to pick back up. Before everyone scattered for the Thanksgiving holiday, Fr. Kevin treated the house to a fried turkey for one of our Sunday dinners. We had lovely weather, so it wasn't at all onerous to be outside watching the bird cook . . . and we got lots of comments from passers-by walking the lake path.

I'd never had a fried turkey before and it was magnificent. So good, I would totally support the fried version as an acceptable substitute for the holiday's traditional roasted version.

Here, Fr. Kevin and Kyle perform surgery on the birds so we can dig in:

With the house basically empty for the weekend, I put in a big push to finish up my writing samples and personal statements for my applications. But I took a break to participate in a trivia tournament hosted at Old College by Fr. Kevin. More than a dozen Holy Cross priests and seminarians joined us for an evening of Star Wars Trivial Pursuit. (The game included a DVD with video questions, hence the focus on the TV here:)

Divided into teams based on our ministry or local house (Corby Hall, Moreau Seminary, Old College, SBN Parishes, etc.) I joined Fr. Kevin, Andrew, Bryan and Joe on the Old College team. Though I literally didn't know the answer to a single question, Joe and Fr. Kevin were pros, and our team won easily.

After Thanksgiving we made the final push to the end of the semester. I wrapped up the two classes I was auditing, including a doctoral seminar in American religious history. I enjoyed the class thoroughly and learned a great deal from it.

During study days, Moreau Seminary hosted their annual Christmas party. Andrew and Josh were definitely the most festively dressed participants:

After a rather mild November, we finally started to experience more typical weather in December. For awhile, we wondered if it would ever snow. But right before the end of the semester we did indeed get an inch or two - just barely enough for our freshmen from Southern climes to be impressed. Here, Bryan (who's from Houston, Texas) does a little "snowboarding" on the hill next to Old College:

As final exams were starting, I finished the last of my applications. I ultimately applied to ten graduate programs, including Penn, Princeton, Columbia, Yale, Harvard, Virginia, Georgetown, Boston College, Fordham and Catholic University. (Now the waiting game begins - I won't hear back from schools until the middle of February at the earliest. Please continue to pray for me!).

Because it's technically illegal, I won't mention by name the friend who supplied this lovely sampling of Oregon brews - but you know who you are. After my applications were finally finished, these provided just the right measure of celebration:

With classes and applications both finished I finally felt like I was ready for Christmas. Thankfully, Old College was delightfully decorated for the season. Fr. Kevin's parents came for a visit during the Thanksgiving break and set up an amazing Nativity display. It took up a whole corner of the Sorin Study, and included a lighted "starry night" background, and multiple layers of display platforms:

As you can see, the windows on Fifth Avenue don't have anything on this display! The historically accurate display includes a Roman legion going out to take the census . . .

. . . a tent for the shepherds . . .

. . . and, of course, the purpose of the Nativity scene, the Lord's manger:

I also decorated my room with a little tree, some miniature Peanuts ornaments . . .

. . . and some nice holiday lights:

During final weeks, I hosted a little study break social in my room complete with Christmas music and cookies. Of course, it was more of an 'open house' since no more than four or so people can fit in my room at one time!

As the men of Old College departed for Chrismtas break, I stayed behind to wrap-up loose ends, and watch the Notre Dame basketball team defeat UCLA. It turns out I was lucky: had I tried to travel on Saturday, I would have been turned back by the East coast blizzard. But as it turned out, I traveled home on Sunday without any trouble whatsoever, landing in Newark only one hour late. I'm looking forward to seeing family, relaxing, reading, and sleeping!

Homily for the Third Sunday of Advent (C)

Today we celebrate Gaudate, or ‘Rejoice,’ Sunday. In the midst of our Advent waiting and longing, we celebrate the fact that Jesus is the fulfillment of our longings. He is the source of our healing, our liberation and our glad tidings. He is in our midst, and will come again at the end of time to usher in the fullness of His kingdom.

And so in our first reading, the prophet Zephaniah tells us: “Shout for joy . . . sing joyfully, the Lord is in your midst!” And in our second reading St. Paul encourages the faithful to “rejoice in the Lord always; I shall say it again: rejoice!”

Neither Zephaniah nor Paul is talking about a constant state of giddiness. They are not encouraging us into a naïve exuberance that ignores the struggles and hardships we sometimes face, or the harsh realities of a world still torn by warfare and poverty.

Rather, they are reminding us that on a deeper level, we Christians – we members of the New Jerusalem – must have the joyful confidence that comes from believing that Jesus truly is the Son of God. We must have a hope and joy that is not fleeting or emotional, not based on our changing mood or circumstances, but a joy that the world cannot give, and the world cannot take away: Jesus Christ, our Savior, has come, and will come again.

In anticipation of this coming time of fulfillment, St. Paul admonishes us: “Your kindness should be known to all.”

Interestingly, that’s a perfect summary of the answers we hear in today’s Gospel reading. Luke tells the story of the crowds that gathered, “filled with expectation,” to listen to John the Baptist’s preaching.

Now John, as you all remember, is kind of a character. Scripture records that he lived in the desert, wore camel skin and ate locusts and honey. “Though he was eccentric, he was extremely popular.” No doubt, some came purely out of curiosity, to see this rather odd character for themselves. But most came because they heard from and saw in John a holiness and righteousness that they wanted to strive for themselves. They came to be convicted by the truth of his preaching, to be cleansed of sin by his baptism, and to learn from him how to better live their lives of faith.

They asked him, simply, “What shall we do?”

We might expect that John, this great ascetic, would make radical demands: “Leave everything and join me in the desert; adopt a life of fasting and penance.” And at first glance, it seems that John does indeed forgo such radical recommendations.

Instead, he seems to call the people to faithfulness in the mundane, daily circumstances of their lives. Tax collectors were told to take only what was prescribed. Soldiers were told not to practice extortion, or to falsely accuse anyone. In other words, do not take advantage of the vulnerable; be faithful; live in peace with one another.

But upon further examination, it is precisely these examples that show just how radical John’s answers really are! Tax collectors were notorious for taking more than the government demanded – that was how they made their living. And soldiers, too, added to their meager wages by practicing extortion, and they used intimidation and deceit to subdue the populace.

Asking these people to act so differently from their normal way of operating was indeed a radical demand. And if we think about them, John’s other answers are just as radical. “Whoever has two cloaks should share with the person who has none, and whoever has food should do likewise.”

If we’re honest with ourselves, we’ll realize just how radical this advice really is, even today, because we’ll realize just how few of us actually live this way! How many of us have more clothing, and spend more money on clothes, than we really need? How many of us eat more than we really need, and waste more food than we’d really like to admit? How many of us often think and act out of the same lust for money, power, pleasure or prestige that led the tax collectors and soldiers to so mistreat their neighbors?

Like the crowds in today’s Gospel, during this Advent season we should be asking, “What shall we do?” In the words of St. Paul, we should be asking how our “kindness can be known to all.”

Friends, the solution lies not in following John into the desert, to wear camel skin and eat locusts and honey. The answer lies in following John’s example of humility.

John could easily have allowed his popularity and reputation for holiness to go to his head. He could have used his influence to enhance his own power, wealth and prestige. But he was an honest man, a humble man, a man who knew who he was and who he was not.

“One mightier than me is coming,” he said. “I am not worthy to loosen the thongs of his sandals.”

John’s entire life, and even his death, pointed not to himself, but to the Lord who was in their midst, and coming into the world. John foretold, and witnessed to, the fire of the Holy Spirit’s love by which the Messiah would baptize His people.

Having received that Spirit of love, we need to live our lives with the same humility that John showed: a humility that calls attention not to ourselves, but points to Christ; a humility that puts others’ needs first; a humility that is satisfied and grateful for all that we have received; a humility that provides for the needs of others, if only from our surplus.

It is when we live our lives with this humility and love, that we will truly experience the joy this Gaudete Sunday invites us to, because we will in fact recognize Christ in our midst, and prepare our hearts, and the world, for His coming. “Brothers and sisters, rejoice in the Lord always; I shall say it again: rejoice!”

Homily for the Second Sunday of Advent (C)

In our Gospel today, St. Luke sets the stage for introducing John the Baptist by outlining the ruling powers of the time. He tells us that it is the 15th year in the reign of Tiberius as Emperor of Rome and that Pontius Pilate is governor of Judea. He names three client kings, who served at Rome’s pleasure, and the high priests Annas and his son-in-law Caiaphas.

What Luke’s readers would have known, and what we miss because we don’t know the history very well, is that the Jews in this list had sold out to the Roman occupiers, and that together with their Roman rulers, these local puppets were brutal and despotic in their treatment of the Jews.
It was a pretty desperate scene, not all dissimilar to what the Jews had experienced during slavery in Egypt and during exile in Babylon.

And so, when St. Luke sets the scene by reminding people of this sad state of affairs, he is connecting John the Baptist to the prophetic tradition of Moses, Baruch and Isaiah – the tradition of prophets announcing that God had not forgotten His people and that He was about to act to save them – to overthrow the regime of evil and to establish His rule of justice and peace.

Sure enough, John appears not in the city of Jerusalem, but in the desert wilderness, just like when Moses led Israel out of Egypt, and just as Isaiah had foretold: “a voice crying out in the desert.”

In fact, Luke puts the words of Isaiah’s prophecy directly on the lips of John: “Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight His paths. The winding road shall be made straight and the rough way made smooth, and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.”

In other words: get ready; God is about to take action! He has not forgotten or abandoned you, and He is about to arrive with your salvation!

Of course that’s why we read these readings throughout our Advent season. No, they don’t tell the story of the preparations for Jesus’ birth in Bethlehem 2000 years ago. We don’t hear the story of the Annunciation quite yet, or of Joseph’s visions in his dreams. For now, we hear the prophecies of God’s saving action that make this Advent season a time of joyful waiting and anticipation.

So as we await and anticipate the fulfillment of God’s promise, as we long for the arrival of our salvation, we can look to John the Baptist’s preaching as an outline for how we should prepare. Luke says: “John went through the whole region of the Jordan, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.”

That’s how we can prepare, and make the paths straight, and the valleys and hills level and smooth. We can prepare our own hearts and minds by repenting of our sins and receiving forgiveness for our sins.

The best way for us to do this is to receive the Sacrament of Reconciliation.

One of the greatest gifts I’ve received in my return to Notre Dame this year is to have the chance to hear confessions in the Basilica. It may be true that Catholics go to Confession less than they used to, but if you paid any attention to the number of times that Confessions are heard at the Basilica, and the lines that form there, you could never claim that Reconciliation is a dead Sacrament. Still, I think even more of us could make regular use of this Sacrament – could discover the great gift that this Sacrament is.

I know that I discovered just that, when I was in high school and college. There was a time when I thought I didn’t need to go to Reconciliation regularly. I certainly didn’t think I was without sin, but neither did I think that I was so bad that I needed to go more than once or twice a year. I figured I knew what my sins were and it wouldn’t do me any good to beat myself up over them by going to Confession every couple of weeks.

Then I started going more regularly. And what I found was that Reconciliation was less about my sinfulness, and more about God’s mercy. I found that confessing my sins, and receiving absolution was a great relief. Even if at first I entered the confessional ashamed and nervous, I always left the confessional feeling an immense relief and a deep peace.

Therein lies the greatness of this Sacrament that Christ Himself gave us: we are assured of God’s mercy! We hear the priest say in the name of Christ and the Church: “I absolve you of your sins”

I once heard a Jewish woman say that we Catholics are lucky. On Yom Kippur, she said, she goes to Temple and prays all day in repentance for her sins. But then she goes home at the end of the day and, she said, “I don’t hear whether or not I am forgiven.” We do, every time we confess.

In Reconciliation we are restored to our Baptismal innocence, and strengthened for a serious striving towards holiness. As St. Paul prays in today’s second reading, “our love increases ever more” and we are better able to “ discern what is of value, so that we may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness.”

In other words, if we want to be more serious in our life of faith; if we want to experience the peace and joy that only God can give; if we want to treat ourselves and everyone around us with the respect that we know we and they deserve; then we will go to Reconciliation more often. We will come to be certain of God’s mercy through it, and we will joyfully share it with others.

Take up the opportunity that this season of Advent offers you to make straight the path in your own heart for Jesus to come and make His home there. If you do, then in the words of St. Paul’s letter: “I am confident of this, that the One who began this good work in you will continue to complete it until the day of Christ Jesus.”

Homily for the First Sunday of Advent (C)

Every Thursday night at Moreau Seminary, the priests and seminarians of the house and their guests, gather for a candle-lit celebration of Evening Prayer called Lucernarium. In many ways, it’s reminiscent of the East Vigil in which the Church gathers in darkness to await the glorious light of the Resurrection.

At the end of this vigil, the final words that the cantor and congregation sing are: “May grace come and this world pass away – Amen, come Lord Jesus!”

I remember the first time I really heard and thought about this beautiful, yet haunting line. It struck me that we were praying for, asking for, looking forward to the end of the world! I almost couldn’t believe it. It seemed so foreign to the way I was accustomed to thinking about life, and even about my faith. Sure, I knew that Jesus would come again at the end of time – but to pray for it to happen soon seemed a bit much.

I don’t think our grandparents’ generation would have been so shocked that we pray for the Lord to come again soon, and for this world to pass away. Interestingly, for all its stress on history and tradition, I think that generation had a greater sense than we do that Catholicism isn’t merely about looking backwards into the past, but looking forward into the future. It’s not only about remembering Jesus’ life here on earth, it’s about longing and preparing for His coming at the end of time.

Forty years ago today, on the First Sunday of Advent 1969, the liturgical changes of Vatican II were implemented. Among other things, one of the most obvious changes was that the priest, who used to face with the people toward the East, toward the place from which the Son would rise on the day of glory, now faced toward the people.

Now there are many pastoral and theological reasons that recommend such an arrangement. But there are downsides as well, and there were benefits to the former arrangement. Even before he was elected Pope, Cardinal Ratzinger wrote that: “the turning of the priest toward the people has turned the community into a self-enclosed circle. In its outward form, it no longer opens out on what lies ahead and above, but is closed in on itself.”

It’s a very real danger that our celebration of the Liturgy might contribute to our thinking that we are merely reenacting the Last Supper, and not facing together toward and preparing for, the Lord’s return. So we must constantly remind ourselves that even now, though the priest and people see each other’s faces, we are not really facing one another, we are all together facing the Lord Jesus and awaiting His return!

We need to recapture the sense of what we still pray at each and every Mass: “we wait in joyful hope for the coming our Savior Jesus Christ.”

Our readings today all make exactly this same point. Over the last several weeks, we have been hearing apocalyptic readings about the end of the world. And I’ve said that these readings were aimed at assuring us that the end of the world is not something to be feared, like Hollywood’s apocalyptic movies would have us believe.

And even today, on the First Sunday of Advent – the first Sunday of a new liturgical year, we hear again about the end of the world. But now the point is slightly different. The readings ask us to live our lives based on our looking not merely back to what Christ has done for us, but also with an eye toward the future – toward His return in glory.

We all know how an upcoming event; a wedding, a graduation, an examination, or a vacation from work; can shape the way we live our daily lives. We spend a lot of time thinking about the future event, and we make choices about when to study, what to pack, what gift to bring or food to prepare.

Today’s readings and indeed the entire season of Advent, stress Jesus’ second coming at the end of time precisely so that we can spend more time thinking about how this truth about the future should shape our daily lives.

In the Gospel, Jesus warns us that “carousing and drunkenness and the anxieties of daily life” may cause us to lose our focus on Jesus’ promised return. “Be vigilant at all times,” He tells us, “stand erect and raise your heads because your redemption is at hand!”

St. Paul’s Letter to the Thessalonians makes a similar point. Paul tells his listeners: “conduct yourselves to please God.” And he prays that they will be “blameless in holiness before our God and Father at the coming of our Lord Jesus.” He instructs them that a key element in being pleasing to God when the Lord Jesus comes again is to “abound in love for one another and for all.”

Friends, we are invited this Advent to recall our hope and longing for the second coming of Christ and to let this hopeful view toward the future order every aspect of our lives.

Advent is a precious gift of time, amidst the busyness of the school year and our hectic preparations for Christmas, to slow down – “to look with hope toward the future and to straighten out what is not yet right; to overcome that one struggle, that one area of darkness—to heal what we’ve broken, to forgive, to be less addicted, to be more chaste, to be more generous.”

We are all given these four weeks of Advent to bring Christ back into the very center of our lives, to pray and to live as if this Advent were our very last Advent.

“May grace come and this world pass away – Amen, come Lord Jesus!”

Hall of Champions!!

Congratulations to the Ramblers of Siegfried Hall, who successfully defended their Interhall Football Championship by defeating St. Edward's Hall yesterday, 41-12. This is the second back-to-back championship run for my former dorm.

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to be in the stadium for the game, but providentially I was previously scheduled as the principal celebrant of the dorm Mass for the Solemnity of Christ the King. It was great to be there to celebrate with the Ramblers! Congratulations to Fr. John Conley, CSC and the men of Siegfried Hall!

Homily for the Solemnity of Christ the King (B)

Today’s Solemnity of Christ the King is a relatively new feast in the life of the Church: Pope Pius XI established the feast in 1925. And to understand what the feast really intends for us to appreciate about the Gospel and about our lives of faith, all we have to do is think about the feast’s name, and about what was going on in the world in 1925, when Pope Pius announced this feast.

In 1925, powerful political, social and economic forces were at work, claiming the allegiance of men and women. In Russia, Soviet Communism had arisen, asserting that individual rights were subservient to the rights of the State and of the Party – that human labor was not for a person’s own benefit, but entirely for "the People."

In Italy and Germany, fascism, another form of totalitarian rule claimed ownership of people’s lives and labor. Around the world, colonialism operated under the assumption that white Western European nations were entitled to dominate the people and the resources of “inferior” and “backward” regions of the world.

So the Church was properly asking, who really holds sovereignty over the hearts and souls of men and women? Who is really in command of the peoples of the world and its resources? Of course, the answer is God, and God alone. Jesus Christ is King of the universe and the Lord of our lives, and it is His Law that orders all creation. All human authority comes from God and is bestowed by Him for the peace and security of all men and women. That’s the truth of which this feast was instituted to remind us.

Therefore, our Gospel for today describes a scene in which earthly, human authority encounters Divine authority. Pontius Pilate, the representative of the Roman Empire – the ancient version of a totalitarian and colonial regime – questions Jesus, the true king of the universe. And yet, even standing before Jesus, Pilate is unable to grasp who Jesus really is and what He has come to accomplish.



Jesus Himself explains why this is when He tells Pilate, “For this I was born and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” With that sentence, Jesus shows that Pilate is blind to the truth – and Jesus teaches us the essence of His mission and the secret to intimacy with God: in order to know God, we must seek the truth.

Whoever searches for, and lets themselves be led by what is true, is drawn into communion, into intimacy with Christ. But being led by truth requires humility. It requires us to recognize an authority higher than oneself, higher even than that of human government. And if we must discover, and accept, and conform our lives to what it objectively true – not merely true for us, or true for our time and place, but true for all people, everywhere and always – then we are not autonomous – we are not the masters of our own personal universes. We are not god.

This act of humility is not easy. As fallen creatures, we tend towards pride, towards self-sufficiency, towards power and control. And so there are powerful forces in our culture that simply deny the role of God in the foundation of our lives and our society. Pope Benedict XVI has for years now been warning the world against a relativism that denies or hates universal truth.

He has said: “today's civil and secular society is found to be in a state of bewilderment and confusion: it has lost the original evidence of the roots of the human being and his ethical behavior… When the fundamental requirements of human dignity, of human life, of the family, of a fair social order, in other words, basic human rights, are at stake, laws devised by human beings that subvert the law that the Creator has engraved on the human heart dramatically affect the indispensable foundations of society itself …”

If we as individuals and as a society are going to experience the peace and true freedom for which we long, and which Christ promises, we must "belong to the truth," by refusing to allow selfishness and self-centeredness turn us into enemies of the truth. We have to take a more active role in searching for the truth and conforming our lives to it.

That’s why Pope Benedict chose as is papal motto, the eighth verse of St. John’s Third Letter: we must be “Coworkers in truth.” In a world that tends to rebel against any and all authority other than oneself, unless we are Christians who actively follow Christ, we will slowly slide into rebellion ourselves.

Even if we come to Mass each and every Sunday, if throughout the rest of the week, we have no place for God, and fill our hearts and minds with all sorts of secular images and information, then it’s no surprise that God is relegated from our hearts and from our society, and we make ourselves into gods. It’s no wonder we aren’t experiencing the interior peace and freedom that Christ promises. Following Christ the King, belonging to the truth, requires seeking Him out: spending time each day in personal prayer; spending quality time each week studying the Scripture and learning the truths of our faith.

Now be forewarned: "choosing Christ does not guarantee success according to the criteria of today’s world, but ensures the peace and joy that only Christ can give.” That’s why, in every age, men and women who have resisted earthly powers – have stood for Christ’s name, and for the truth, and for justice,” have faced martyrdom.

(Bl. Franz Jaggerstatter, murdered by the Nazi Government)

As those who belong to the truth, we too will have to sacrifice our egos, and our earthly ambitions, and may suffer certain kinds of persecution and indignities at the hands of human powers. But in so doing we will be imitating our Lord, who let Himself be taken into the hands of evil men, and nailed to a tree.

And yet, even those who are blind to the truth are subject to it. Remember that after the scene in today’s Gospel, it was Pilate himself who had inscribed atop Jesus’ cross, in Latin, Greek and Aramaic: “Jesus Christ, King of the Jews.”

It is in Christ the King that we place all our allegiance and hope. And it is in His name that we are coworkers in the truth.

Homily for the Thirty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time (B)

On Friday the new movie ‘2012’ was released – and it’s had a big opening weekend, earning some $225 million in ticket sales. But I can tell you that I will definitely not be seeing it. I’m simply done seeing movies about the end of the world! It seems like we’ve had a real proliferation of these apocalyptic movies recently, and on top of being bored by them at this point, I’m also a New Yorker – so I’m sick and tired of watching my hometown get destroyed by some Hollywood nerd’s computer graphics.

But here we are, just a week away from the end of one Liturgical Year and the beginning of a new one with the Advent season, and we’re faced with apocalyptic readings at Mass – Scriptural readings that have to do with the end of the world; the end of time.

And just like in the movies, these apocalyptic Biblical readings are filled with terrible images of strife, distress, war and suffering: the sun and moon darkened, stars falling from the skies, heaven and earth shaken by powerful earthquakes.

But that’s about where the similarities end, actually. In the movies, the scenes of the collapse and destruction of our modern civilization are meant to inspire feelings of fear, helplessness and loss. But the scenes foretold in the Scriptures of both the Old and New Testaments were written with quite a different intention: they were meant to inspire in the believer, the virtues of faith, hope, and even joy.

For our Jewish brothers and sisters before us and now for all Christians as well, God is not a distant god, who created the world and has let in spin on its own ever since. He is understood as being at work in the world, constantly cleansing and purifying it, restoring it and making it new.

So the apocalyptic readings of Scripture aren’t meant to be taken literally, first of all – and second, they’re certainly not meant to inspire fear. They’re meant to inspire hope, because they are yet another depiction of how God brings about a new order, a glorious kingdom.

Think of the Great Flood when God drowned sin and made a new covenant with Noah. Think of the Exodus when God battled for Israel and defeated slavery and then gave Israel the Promised Land through the waters of the Red Sea. Think of Jesus doing verbal battle with the Pharisees and Scribes, and physically chasing the moneychangers from the Temple.

In all of these examples, throughout salvation history, God has fought the forces of sin and the power of darkness. And yes, for Him to establish a new order, means that the old order, and the former kingdom must pass away. As in all battles, this cosmic battle involves some terrible strife and distress . . . transitions are often painful.

If we think about it, we feel the effects of this battle every day, in our own lives. We all battle with sin and failure in our lives, and endure the many other trials of life. We struggle to do the thing that we know is right, that we know will make us the better person we want to be, because that thing is hard and demands something of us.

Or we worry that we are always struggling with the same sins – never feeling like we’re making the progress we long to make. Still, we are constantly being made anew – we are in the process of becoming who God calls us to be and He is at work is us. These are the growing pains that accompany all rebirth; the labor pains that come before all new life.

So that we don’t become discouraged or fearful about this process, we need to pay attention to the rest of tonight’s readings, and not get stuck on the shock and awe of their apocalyptic scenes. Jesus says in tonight’s Gospel: “After those days of tribulation, they will see the Son of Man coming in the clouds with great power and glory, and he will send out his angels to gather His elect.”

And in the Book of Daniel we hear: “the wise shall shine brightly like the splendor of the firmament and those who lead the many to justice shall be like the stars forever.”

Friends, the point of reading these apocalyptic stories with the eyes of faith – unlike those Hollywood versions – is that we already know how the story ends! We know the end result of all this struggle and strife. We know who wins the battle and we know the good things God has planned to make of us.

When Jesus is nailed to the cross, He takes all of the evil and corruption, and sin and darkness and suffering of this world, and He absorbs it. He takes it upon Himself. Then in death He descends into Hell and battles with these forces of evil, and on the third day when He rises from the dead, He has conquered them all!

In the Death and Resurrection of Jesus, the world has been cleansed once and for all, and a new world has begun: a world where love really is stronger, and life really is more powerful than any sin or death or suffering.

That’s how these readings fill us with hope and faith and yes, even joy.
It’s true: this world is indeed ending – but it’s no cause for fear or trembling. It’s actually a cause for great joy. For with it ends all sin and suffering – and the world that replaces it is one of mercy and love.

Brothers and sisters, every time we gather for the Eucharist, Christ’s suffering and death is re-presented here on this altar: that cosmic battle by which our sin and death is defeated. And every time we gather for the Eucharist, we participate in the Liturgy of Heaven: that new world that is, even now, dawning in our midst. And so, as people of faith, we hope and pray that grace will come and this world will soon pass away – and until that day, we eat of the Lord’s Body and drink of His Blood and in them enjoy a foretaste of the world without end that is to come.

Fall Update

Since I was up early to preside and preach at the Basilica's 8 am morning Mass, I decided to use the extra time to write a long-overdue post about the last several weeks' activities. I've heard from several people who've noticed the relative quiet on the blog and I thought it was time to correct (and explain) that.

After returning from a little vacation in Portland, I hit the ground running preparing for yet another trip - this time a drive to the East Coast to visit prospective gradate schools over Notre Dame's Fall Break week. My first stop was the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia . . .

the city of brotherly love. Indeed I had a lovely visit there, meeting with a professor in the history department and getting a feel for the campus (and having a cheesesteak at the world famous Geno's!)

Unfortunately, a cough I had developed during my travels to the West Coast worsened while I was attempting to visit Princeton University. I only got to see the University Medical Center, where I was diagnosed with bronchitis, potentially brought on by a minor bout of pork (I'm sorry, swine) flu. When my fever broke, and I had some antibiotics in me, I made the drive back to South Bend.

All that week, as most of the students were away, South Bend had lovely Fall weather. So typical that it happens when the students are away! The leaves all seemed to change at once and the campus was just beautiful.

But it was also typical that once the students returned, and everyone was gearing up for the Boston College game, it rained like cats and dogs. Mom and Dad were on campus for the game, but I was still a bit too sick to attend the game. They were lucky enough to see a win and to stay dry during the game. Though I wish I had been healthier, we enjoyed the rest of their visit taking it easy and relaxing together.

This past weekend I enjoyed a visit from Kevin and Jeanette Haley for the Navy game. Though it was a quick visit, it was great to see them, and we were treated to some delightful weather during their stay. As for the game, I'll simply refer you to something I posted about our coach earlier this season.

In the meanwhile, I have been very, very busy with my applications for grad school - which is the main reason I haven't posted much on the blog. Amid my normal reading for class, my priestly obligations on campus, and my responsibilities in Old College, there's been a real uptick in the amount of time I'm giving over to my personal statement and writing sample for applications. There's about a month left before they're all due, and about three months until I hear back from these programs - so your continued prayers are much appreciated.

Fr. John Pearson, CSC tells me that I post a lot about food (I refer you to one of my earliest posts) and I wouldn't want to disappoint him . . .

so I'll share this picture of our Sunday evening community meal at Old College. Every Sunday the men take turns cooking for the house and we share a family supper. It's a bit crowded with twenty-three of us there, but that just makes it feel a little like Thanksgiving every week! We've had some really lovely meals and fun conversations - and it's just one of the many things I've enjoyed living and working here at Old College.

Homily for the Thirty Second Sunday in Ordinary Time (B)

Traveling in Notre Dame circles, and especially visiting campus on football weekends like this, one hears an awful lot about “the Notre Dame family.” Because it represents an emotion or experience that’s difficult to capture in words, the phrase risks being merely a cliché. And yet, somehow, we know its real when we see it or experience it for ourselves.

David Miller, a 1979 alumnus and State District Court judge in Colorado experienced it a little under a year ago when, of all people, his roommate from Flanner Hall was the suitable match he needed for a kidney donation and transplant. Having grown up an only child, Mr. Miller found in his college dorm-mates the brothers he never had – and thirty years later those bonds of family remained so strong, his roommate and friend Chris Nagle risked his health to save David’s life.

Anthony Depalma experienced it in the Fall of 1999 when his son Aahren was diagnosed with leukemia after only three days as a freshman in Siegfried Hall. Mr. Depalma wrote about how the students of Siegfried, and their rector Fr. John Conley rallied around Aahern during his treatments. They sent him a Siegfried sweatshirt, and copies of the Observer, they prayed and lit candles at the Grotto, and did innumerable things to let Aahern know he was one of them and they were with him in his battle.

Mr. Depalma said: “There hadn’t been time for anyone to check any manuals, to find out what the regulations required. They all simply did what they did because that was the only way they knew how to do it. It was a response that had to have been bred deep in their bones.”

On a slightly lighter note, even Pedro Moura, a student at the University of Southern California, experienced the “Notre Dame family” when he visited campus for the game a few weeks back. Back at Southern Cal he wrote in the student paper that, “I must have heard the words ‘Welcome to Notre Dame,’ at least 30 times from ushers and elevator staff to random old guys on the sidelines. I’ve never felt more welcomed anywhere in my life.”

I hope that all of you here – whether you’re a student or an alum, a parent of a student or just a visitor for a football game – I hope all of you have some story, some experience of this thing we call “the Notre Dame family.”

But I’d like you to think with me for a moment or two about what’s really at the heart of this family spirit we all hold dear. What is it that drives this kind of warm, selfless hospitality and generosity? Certainly there are other schools, other institutions with a similar spirit of camaraderie and service – our friends from the Naval Academy provide a perfect example.

What is it, then, about this place, when it’s at its best, that sets it apart? What exactly did Mr. Depalma experience as the soul of the university, bred deep in the bones of all its members?

I’d like to suggest that the faithful women in today’s readings provide the best possible answer to these questions.

In our first reading, the widow of Zarephath is preparing to use her last bit of flour and oil to make herself and her son a final meal. The drought-induced famine that has plagued her homeland is about to rob them of life. And yet, even in these dire straits, when the prophet Elijah asks her to bring him something to eat and drink, she does not hesitate to show him hospitality. She trusts Elijah’s promise that the Lord will provide for her, and that the flour and oil will not run out before the drought lifts and the rains fall. In her generosity and sacrifice, she trusts God, puts her life in His hands and gives everything she has in love of another.

In our Gospel, Jesus notices and comments upon people who are making offertory gifts at the Temple in Jerusalem. He notes that the rich were giving “large sums” to the Temple treasury – but He also spies and privately commends a widow who gave just two small coins. “This poor widow,” Jesus says, “put in more than all the other contributors to the treasury, for they contributed from their surplus wealth – but she from her poverty has contributed all she had, her whole livelihood.”

This widowed woman could have given nothing, saying that her poverty made her unable to give. She could have kept even one of her coins to ensure just a little bit of her own security. Instead, she sacrifices even the little she has. Frankly, she forgoes prudence and reason for generosity, trust, and faith. She let’s go of everything, including trying to provide for her own future, and has faith that God will provide for her, just as surely as He provided for the widow of Zarephath and her son.

Friends, I am convinced that the hospitality and generosity that marks the “Notre Dame family” has its roots, and its highest ideal, in precisely this selfless service of others that necessarily trusts and relies entirely on God’s providential care.

When Blessed Basil Moreau founded the Congregation of Holy Cross, and sent Fr. Sorin to Indiana to found Notre Dame, he modeled the priests, brothers and sisters of his community on the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph. He wanted the community he founded, and the schools they built, to be marked by a true family spirit.

But more than that, he was bold enough to give them as a motto, the phrase “Ave Crux, Spes Unica” – Behold the cross, our only hope. He wanted his band of religious, and the parishes and schools they served, to trust, not in themselves, not in their material wealth or their ability to secure their own future growth and prestige – but to trust in the love and mercy of God’s providence . . . to give everything over to Him, and Him alone. To serve others in love, especially the most vulnerable, trusting that no matter the sacrifice required, God would provide.

That, brothers and sisters, is precisely what Christ did for us, and showed us how to do, as He hung upon the Cross.

So it’s no coincidence that our Gospel this Sunday is the last account that Mark gives of Jesus’ public ministry. The chapters that follow immediately after this reading bring us with Jesus to His death on the cross. So, in today’s Gospel encounter, when Jesus points out the widow who gives away all that she has, He is using her as an image of the total self-sacrifice that He is about to make for us on the Cross.

That’s why Jesus calls his disciples together and makes them appreciate what is happening right there in front of them. He is once again giving them, and all His followers throughout history, an example to follow.

And so to this very day, here at Notre Dame, and wherever the men and women of Holy Cross live and work, we strive to build communities of believers that so trust in God’s loving providence, and in the power of Christ’s cross, that they are willing to give all of themselves in generous, hospitable, self sacrificing love.

Trust in Divine Providence, and confidence in the cross as our only hope – THAT is the soul of this university, and in turn it is the true source of the family spirit, bred so deep in the bones of her loyal sons and daughters.

New Deacons in Portland

Archbishop John Vlazny, of the Archdiocese of Portland, recently ordained three men to the permanent diaconate . . . among them was a Holy Redeemer parishioner and colleague of mine, now Rev. Mr. John Rilatt.

John and I worked closely together on the renovation of Holy Redeemer Church, when John served as our Director of Maintenance, before moving on to a new position in Campus Ministry at Central Catholic High School.

You can see above, that John had to learn that deacons are to assist the priest, not watch or supervise them! You know I'm kidding, John ;) It was my great honor to be bit-player in John's formation and to watch him progress toward this wonderful day.

Congratulations to Deacon John and his classmates, and blessings on their new ministry to God's Holy People. (You can read more about the ordination class and see a picture at the diocesan newspaper).

Portland, Part Two

Of course, I also spent a good bit of time the Josh and Stacey Noem, and their children Oscar, Simon and Lucy. We enjoyed a lovely little hike together in the Columbia River Gorge . . .

. . . making the most of the lovely Fall weather we had all week. The temperatures were pleasantly cool, the sun was out, Mt. Hood made an appearance, and the Fall colors were starting to pop out:

I made return trips to several of my favorite restaurants, but I also made time to try a few new places that I had missed before I left this summer, or that I read about in Portland Monthly magazine (to which I still subscribe to keep abreast of goings-on in the Rose City).

One of those new places was the Grilled Cheese Grill, one of the up and coming food carts that dot the Portland landscape. Food carts and street vendors are a real favorite in Portland because they so perfectly fit the city's frugality, slightly off-beat persona.

Located on a vacant lot on Alberta Street, the Grilled Cheese Grill is operated out of an old camper, with the 'indoor' seating section in an old school bus parked right along side. The menu has all sorts of fun twists on the grilled-sandwich theme, but on my first visit I stuck with the classic: American cheese on white bread.

My sandwich was the Platonic ideal of the grilled cheese sandwich: a golden, buttery, crisp exterior to interiorly soft bread, with hot cheese oozing out the sides. Perfection! And dirt cheap to boot!!

At the end of the week, for a slightly more up-scale experience, the old gang gathered at Mint 820 for cocktails and late night snacks:

Over the closing weekend of my trip, I presided at the wedding of Shaun and Julianna Hewitt. I've had the pleasure of knowing Shaun and Julianna through a good portion of their courtship, and also helped Shaun through the RCIA process this past year. It was a lovely wedding.

On Sunday morning, I presided and preached the 10 am Mass at Holy Redeemer and also baptized Emma Pearl Wazny, the first child of Scott and Dana Wazny, who I also got to know this past year in the HR RCIA program. It was a real honor that Dana and Scott asked for me to do the Baptism while I was visiting.

After a lovely brunch with three friends from the Holy Redeemer faculty and their husbands, I presided at a special afternoon Mass for Martha and Mary Ministries. Founded by my parishioner and friend Pat Cary, Martha and Mary Ministries is a Catholic hospice program. We observed Right to Life Sunday a week late, but its always a good time to pray for an end to abortion, capital punishment, euthanasia, and all attacks on human dignity!

From start to finish, East to West, the whole trip was an absolute blast. Portland fit like a glove, and I was reminded why I miss it so much. But I was also glad to come home to Old College at the end of the week, and to begin the next phase of my application process. Indeed, my next posts should be about a few grad program visits I'll be making out East.

Wedding Weekends From East to West

A few months ago, when I was scheduling my GRE exam, I wanted to build in a little bit of a reward for myself. Knowing that I had two weddings on back-to-back weekends at the beginning of October, I scheduled my exam for the last day of September.

So, after successfully (thank God!) completing the GRE, it was 'have stole, will travel!'

I first flew east for the wedding of Chris and Mary Fesen in Hoboken, New Jersey. It was a lovely affair in an old Italian ethnic parish in Hoboken. The reception that followed was in Manhattan, in a penthouse dining room with views of the Empire State Building.

At the end of the weekend I enjoyed a lovely day with my parents on Staten Island, including a little celebratory dinner and a Sunday Mass with grandma.

As the new week began, I flew to Portland to prepare for the coming weekend's wedding, and a few days vacation in my old stomping grounds.

My first night in Portland was a Monday - the day I traditionally spent with Ken Hallenius, who also took Mondays off from work, and his wife Julie. So the three of us gathered at The Original, and ended up trying their somewhat famous Voodoo Burger: a cheeseburger on a Voodoo Doughnuts glazed doughnut instead of a bun.

It was as absolutely outrageous as it sounds - and though it was really good, we were glad that we split it three ways!

Throughout the week I enjoyed the gracious hospitality of Frs. John Dougherty and Jay Steele, the new pastoral team at Holy Redeemer Parish. They were actually away for several days at the annual Archdiocesan Convocation, so I covered the daily Masses, the School Mass, and even did a hospital call!

It was a real blast to be back in the parish, and especially to preside at the weekly School Mass. I was able to catch up with a lot of my parishioner and faculty friends, and see some of the changes that are slowly occurring at Holy Redeemer.

I also had plenty of time to spend hanging out with the 'usual suspects' in 'all our old familiar places.' Ken and I got our hairs cut at HairM, and enjoyed lunch together on Wednesday. Then, that evening, since I never did get to toast Arthur Guinness on the 250th anniversary of his great drink, we gathered at Kells for a pint:

and then had the traditional late-night doughnut around the corner at Voodoo Doughnuts. I was particularly honored that this was Brenda Greiner's first ever trip to the 'hole' in the wall establishment ;)

I had way too much fun to cover it all in one post, so stay tuned for more!

Homily for the Twenty Eighth Sunday in OT (B)

In today’s Gospel we are given one of the most important encounters in all of the Christian Scriptures. It is so important, that our late Holy Father, Pope John Paul II, used this passage as the lens through which he explained the entirety of the Christian moral life. So let’s take a closer look at this passage and what it reveals about the moral life.

"A man ran up and knelt before Him..."

St. Mark doesn’t name the young man who comes to Jesus, but that’s fine, because it allows us to recognize in him every person who approaches the Lord and asks about the full meaning of life. The Gospel says that the young man ran to Jesus: first, he has obviously been deeply attracted to the absolute Good that he sees in Jesus – and, second, he clearly understands how vitally important the answer he is seeking truly is. He asks:

"Good Teacher, what good must I do to inherit eternal life?"

This question, which clearly rises from the depths of his heart, “is the essential and unavoidable question for the life of every person.” All of human longing for meaning and fulfillment, for our destiny, is really a longing for eternal life. And the young man not only asks about finding this meaning, he also senses that there is some connection between the fulfillment of his destiny and the moral choices he makes, the good that he must be do.

This is, in and of itself, a great accomplishment on the part of the young man. Brothers and sisters, we should ask ourselves, do we seek first and foremost to have eternal life and to know the things we must do to obtain it – or do we rather seek to know the path to other, lesser goods: I know I ask more about what I must do to get into graduate school! Or perhaps we’re worried more about financial success, good health, or the good life?

The young man has the right question and turns to the right person for the answer. Like him, we need to turn to Christ and seek the fullness of life, to know what is good and what is evil. It is Jesus, always living in His Church, who will open the Scriptures for us and teach us the truth and meaning of our lives.

"No one is good but God alone"

Jesus responds to the young man’s wonderful question by saying: "Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone.” At first this seems like a rebuke or correction. But like any good teacher, before really answering, Jesus wants the young man to understand why the question he has asked is itself so insightful.

Jesus points out to him — and to all of us — that only God can answer the question about what is good, because God is the Good itself. Thus, to ask about the good, to seek to know right from wrong, to long for meaning, and the fullness of life, these are all essentially religious questions – even if people don’t recognize them as such! The goodness that all humanity longs for has its source in God, and indeed is God himself.

"You know the commandments"

Jesus goes on to make clear the close connection that exists between eternal life and obedience to God's commandments. God's commandments show us the path of life and they lead us to it. You remember that in the Old Covenant fidelity to the commandments brought the promise of the Holy Land. Well, so too in the New Covenant, fidelity to the commandments brings the promise of the Kingdom of Heaven.

It’s important to note that the commandments Jesus recites, to remind the young man, are all aimed at safeguarding the good of the person as the image of God: "You shall not murder; You shall not commit adultery; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness." They all protect human dignity.

But these commandments are, in a sense, only the basic conditions for the love of neighbor. In the end, it’s simply not enough to not murder; to not commit adultery – these commandments are really an invitation to a much deeper moral and spiritual journey which has as its aim the perfection that is true love.

"You are lacking in one thing.”

The young man himself seems to realize this. He doesn’t seem satisfied with Jesus’ answer. When he says "all of these I have observed from my youth,” we can understand that he himself knows there must be something more, something deeper required of him than merely obeying the commandments as he has done.

But let’s pause here for a moment, because here again, the young man is worthy of admiration. Even more than having the right question or the right idea or thought, the young man has done the right thing – he has kept the commandments. And indeed, the good is always more than a hope or a desire: the good is always a choice and an action.

I think that’s why Jesus, looks at him with love. He really is trying. He really is seeking eternal life and trying to act in a way that is worthy of it. It’s not easy to say with a clear conscience "I have kept all these", and yet, he is able to say it. Friends, we should always strive to be able to say the same. The commitment to strive to fulfill the moral demands of the commandments is the absolutely essential ground upon which a truly Christian life is built. It’s also the prerequisite for what happens next.

Aware of the young man's yearning for something greater, something more than a merely legalistic interpretation of the commandments, something more than merely negative prescriptions, Jesus invites the young man to enter upon the path of true perfection. He says:

"Go, sell your possessions and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”

This is the vocation to perfect love in imitation of Christ, and it is not restricted to a small group of individuals, to priests and religious and monks. The invitation, "go, sell your possessions and give the money to the poor,” and the promise "you will have treasure in heaven,” are meant for everyone.

We tend to soft peddle this a bit, don’t we? “Jesus couldn’t possibly be talking about me.” “That’s for some people, but not for me.” “He’s talking about Apostles, and martyrs and religious.”

But it is for all of us. This is the challenge and call to spiritual heroism and real spiritual adventure – to the positive, love relationship that is at the heart of the moral life. It’s Jesus’ invitation to trust and rely entirely on God, and to radically live for the other – to not settle for mediocrity, to not settle for good enough, but to aspire to true holiness through true love.

"All things are possible for God”

This type of radical holiness – this total reliance on God and total self-sacrifice is not easy. Indeed, "when the young man heard this, he went away sad, for he had many possessions.” And the disciples too wonder, "then who can be saved?'”

But Jesus makes clear that we do not accomplish this kind of holiness on our own. "With men this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.” To imitate the love of Christ is in fact possible because of God’s gracious gift. God heals, restores and transforms the human heart by grace and makes us capable of such love.

We call people who have lived this way, saints. And friends, we are, all of us, called to be, not merely good enough, but saints.

Today we have the privilege of witnessing Emma Pearl’s Baptism. As she begins her life of Christian discipleship today, her parents Scott and Dana are entrusted with responsibility for teaching her, by word and example, that Christ looks at her with great love, and invites her, not merely to follow a set of rules, but to the great adventure of walking with Christ in love for all.

May all of us, as members of the Church, assist Scott and Dana in their duty as Christian parents, and provide Emma with examples of Christian holiness that are worthy enough to follow.